Around and Around

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Went to Enterprise today to rent a car since both our cars were lost in the Memorial day flood. Here's what the women's restroom looked like:

Luckily, there was a lock on the door. I swear I have dreamt this many times in the past. James Van Praagh talks about deja vu being part of levels of consciousness, that there is no time or space, so in a sense, we have actually been there before. I don't know what grosses me out more, that there are two toilets next to each other, that one's lid is lifted or that two people are sharing hand sanitizer and a trash can. I've never seen hand sanitizer next to toilets, only next to sinks, so that part kind of stuck with me there.

Also, yesterday we were at the car dealership, in the salesman's office, trying to decide how to finance my car purchase. We were in there at least 45 minutes. He had a super giant aquarium in there, took up one half of the wall. In the lower left-hand corner, there was a blue and gold stripped fish, kind of looked like a bass, and it appeared to be dying.

When I pointed it out to the guy, he said, "Oh, it's all right. If I were to tap on the glass, he'd take off swimming in a flash." I could tell he thought I didn't believe him, so after continuously staring back at the fish - I guess it was obvious I wasn't paying much attention after that to his "why lease instead of buy" speech - he walked over to the tank and said, "He does this all the time." Tap, tap, tap. Not much movement. He tapped a little more aggressively. Still not much movement.

"Well, he does this all the time," he repeated as he went back to sit down. A little while later, I smiled when I saw the fish start swimming straight up toward the surface, but its attempt was futile and it sunk back down to the aquarium gravel and proceeded to swim upside down across to the center of the tank and lay its upside-down head on the rock." For that brief moment, I thought to myself, "Now I don't have to worry that that fish is dying." But there it laid until we were finished with our meeting. The man walked back over to the tank and said in a concerned voice, "Maybe he ate a snail or something, I don't know." What? Where did that diagnosis come from? As I walked out the door, I tried to take a mental snapshot of what it looked like, so that when we go back in next weekend, I will look for him. I would have taken a photo if I thought I wouldn't look stupid.

Now, I feel like I am might be buying a car from a liar. But aren't all sales persons liars to some degree? No, I wasn't. Anyone know of an HONEST car sales person in H-town?

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

It's been a couple of weeks since I've been back to that particular Whataburger since Ms. Evelyn left. On my way, I thought to myself how nice it would be if it was all a mistake or a dream, that if I drove up to the speaker, Ms. Evelyn would answer. And believe it or not, she did!

I could barely contain myself as I waited in line. An unexpected good start to a day when I feel like my sinuses are going to explode. Come to find out, she did start her new job, which she arrives at at 10 a.m. every day, but the manager at Whataburger was having a difficult time finding a replacement, so she is temporarily coming in from 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. to help out. She says she can't do it for long because she is exhausted, but this just goes to show you what type of person she is.

NaPoWriMo started today so I am helplessly staring at the screen. I have written about ten words to a poem I am entitling "Death." Guess you can tell what's on my mind today, huh? We have had too many deaths recently, deaths of people who are way too young to leave this earth. That's what this poem will be about.

Friday, March 27, 2015

A friend from a long time ago and I reconnected about a year ago. She recently asked me if I could give her a link to this blog. I hesitated at first because you know how sometimes people look at you differently when they know your obsessions and compulsions. I’m still thinking about it. In preparing to make the decision, I opened this blog and started reading posts all the way back to the beginning.

Wow, was I ever taken aback. I have made so much progress in the last five years, it’s unreal. I don’t even remember some of those obsessions. The compulsions, yes, but not the obsessions. Alligators, really? Bone cancer? The Clint losing on the Apprentice was a big one. I remember it because I drove Janya absolutely nuts about it.

And all of the dark drawings and memes. I must have had some really bad days. I am so happy with my improvement. I’m like a totally new person now. Why? What changed? Here are some possibilities:

1. Coming out as a lesbian.

This is probably the biggest "cause" of my OCD symptoms. No one understands the stress of keeping a secret so long. No, I take that back. It wasn’t the secret. I kept other secrets for years. Yes, they ate at me and contributed to stress, unhappiness and probably my OCD. But not allowing yourself on the outside to be who you are on the inside, wearing a mask for the majority of your life, that’s the worst. Your family, your friends, your co-workers, all think you are someone else. And when they finally find out, they have to make a decision about whether or not it matters. It usually does.

While coming out created a lot of pain, hurt and stress in all areas of my spiritual and physical life, the ultimate release and being loved and accepted finally for who I actually am was such a relief. I lost many people and opportunities in my life, but I was introduced to so many more wonderful people and possibilities. I officially came out in 2008, but as you can see, it has been a long journey. It’s now 2015, and I’m still not "cured", but things are usually manageable.

2. My job

I worked here from 2009-2011 and liked the position, but not having had health insurance and the financial stress it caused when I went almost bankrupt from two back-to-back surgeries in one month just about did me in. I ditched my cell phone number, moved and pretty much looked over my shoulder for a few years due to creditors. When my boss kept putting off helping me with health insurance, I moved on and went back to teaching where I got spring break, holidays and summers off. But what I had forgotten was that when I teach, I give about 150%. I’m not a spring chicken after all and I didn’t need to impress anyone to further my career. I didn’t have to spend ever weekend up at school or every single weekday evening making materials and working my ass off. But I did it anyway because that’s what I do when I teach; I give it more than my all. Yes, I had health insurance, but my health was deteriorating because I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I developed psoriasis, an unusual cataract in my eye, my cholesterol went up and I was prescribed something to help me sleep. I did this for two years.

When I saw that things were not going to change, my boss asked me to come back with the understanding that he would pay almost half of my insurance premium, so here I am. I miss the kids but not the stress. I miss the extra days off and the sunshine. But I have insurance, I sometimes get to work from home and I pretty much know what to expect when I wake up every morning and no more 7:15 meetings!

3. Unity

Unity has literally saved me. If I had been brought up in New Thought, goodness knows how many fewer people I would have hurt and disappointed. Being given the choice about what to think and being accepted for it, there is so much power in that. Who knows what kind of career I would have chosen and how successful I would have been. But you can’t look back; it does no good. I don’t have to blame anyone, or myself, or God anymore for what life has brought me. I can give thanks for every day and experience as a gift. I am a spiritual being having a human experience, not a human being having a spiritual experience. There’s a difference and it has given me great relief. I have made friends who love me for who I am, not for what they think or want me to be. I don’t have to be like them or agree with them. We are each on our own spiritual journey and we support each other in that.

4. My family

I came out of the other side of divorce full of guilt and regret and some anger. Most of that has subsided. I think my ex now has a girlfriend; I am so happy for him. My daughters both talk to me and spend time with me. They are both in serious and happy relationships. I get to see my parents and my grandmother. My partner and I have grown in our relationship. I think I still hold some resentment in the fact that we should have never been apart in the first place, but then I wouldn’t have my kids, so I would never wish that. I lost contact with the majority of my friends, but that is starting to change. Some have Facebook friended me, even though I can tell they don’t approve. They’re not being rude or making judgmental comments. The ones who probably wouldn’t be able to hold their tongues have declined my friend requests, so I’m probably better off.

4. Cognitive Behaviour Therapy

I was on medication for OCD for a number of years but no longer am. CBT really helped me with the compulsions. I have a top-rated therapist for that. I don’t think there is anything I could say or do that would surprise her; she’s probably seen or heard it all. She doesn’t really have to give me choices anymore on how to work it; she’s just there in case I have any questions. She also reminds me of things I’ve forgotten. When she first met me in about 2006, I was a total wreck, scared and suicidal. I feel like one of her biggest success stories.

I hope this post gives others hope that there is definitely a light at the end of their tunnels. Starting a journal or a blog like this one could be very telling one day when one looks back at the entries. I know I was amazed and it gives me great hope for my future. There is no going back to that misery. Things will only get better from now on.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Lately, I have had a few "mini" panic attacks. I'm really proud of myself for working my way through them before they escalated. I've done this by saying to myself, "It could be worse," and imagining how much worse it could be.

A FB friend of mine recently shared her fear of getting on an airplane. My response to her would be to think of how much worse it could be. Instead of being on a large, commercial jet, you could be in a four-seater, equipped with a parachute, flying through a thunderstorm.

This way of thinking has really helped me the past couple of weeks and has saved me tons of embarrassment in public places or in front of the people I love. Try it youself sometime and let me know if it worked for you.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Her name is "Ms. Evelyn" to her Whataburger customers and she will never know how important she was to me. Have you ever seen the movie "As Good As It Gets"? Melvin, a man with contamination OCD, among other rituals, goes to the same cafe for breakfast every morning. Carol, his waitress, is there every day, dutifully serving him his meals and putting up with his endless quirks and general creepiness. One day, Carol doesn't show up for work, and Melvin freaks out. It is the routine that Carol provides that keeps Melvin calm, like medicine to his soul. Evelyn is my Carol. There haev been other fast food window attendants in the past that I have missed after a while, but Evelyn is different. Maybe it's because she's a nice person. maybe it's because it's hard to find good customer service these days. Maybe it's because she reminds me of one of my best friends who will no longer acknowledge my existence.

I purposefully drive to this particular Whataburger on my way to work every day because of her service. I am never late because of her excellent work ethic and quick thinking. She takes her job VERY seriouslly but still manages to keep her sense of humor. She keeps the line moving no matter what. You can tell her co-workers are equally in awe as to how she does what she does, and she does it with a smile.

Evelyn is an extremely hard worker. She probably earns a little over minimum wage, if that much. She acts like she's being paid big bucks to be your best friend from the first day she waits on you. When you drive up to her Whataburger order box early in themorning, you hear, "Good morning. Welcome to Whataburger, home of the something something chicken sandwich. My name is Ms. Evelyn. How may I take your order?" For time's sake, you want to interrupt her greeting and just get to the order-taking part, but you don't because she says it with such pride and conviction. After you order, she says, "Drive to the window, beautiful, sweetie, handsome," or whatever name she feels appropriate.

When you get to the window, she appears to have five hands. Takes your money, is making your change, is taking someone else's order and somehow pouring your drink and drying of the cup for any spillage. She God bless you, calling you the name above that she has decided on, talks to your dogs, laughs, God blesses you AGAIN and tells you to have a WONDERFUL day, with stress on the "wonderful."

When Evelyn is not at the window, the line of cars comes to a dead stop. Many times I've just driven off after waiting awhile. It's obvious Evelyn isn't at work that day, so what's the point? Totally throws off my routine and gets my day off to a bad start. Several times I have gone on the Whataburger website to give her positive feedback at her request because "someone has it in for me and gave me a bad review." Several times I've given her a dollar tip or told her to keep the change to let her know what she does is appreciated.

It's routine like this that is both good and bad for my OCD. On one hand, it's predictable, so there's very little chance of a panic attack on my way to work, my day starts off "normally", I should say. On the other hand, it's routines like this that I get into that contribute to me falling apart when the routine is interrupted. So I guess I should have seen it as a step forward when Evelyn whispered to me out the window a couple of weeks ago, "I put in my two-week notice." "Hey, I can handle this," I thought. I told her I was happy for herand her new job, where she might be able to move up the ladder one day.

I got in the car today with my two dogs and asked them, "Ready to say goodbye to Ms. Evelyn?" I don't know which day is her last day, but I know it's coming up. Today will be my last trip to that Whataburger for awhile until I get into a new routine. When we got up to the window, I told her that my dogs and I had come to tell her goodbye and wish her good luck. I gave her my $2.32 and then put a $20 bill in her hand. "This is for keeping me on time to work everyday." She started crying, held the money over her heart and mouthed, "Thank you. God bless you." Callie yawned and I drove off.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Fifty Shades of Grey hoopla is over. The critics didn't care for it so I'm secretly hoping they won't make the sequel, which I know they will. But I will have time to prepare myself.

I'm still on Bobbi Kristina watch. I feel like a terrible person because sometimes I think to myself, "Just die already!" If she doesn't, then all this stupid checking will have been for nothing. I don't want anyone to die. That's how you know when it's OCD, when you know your thoughts are illogical.

Things are good in our life here. My partner and I are feeling very connected at the moment. We both have jobs; my daughter is getting married and the other one is happy in a relationship. Our parents are tolerating us. We've managed several romantic getaways in the past few months. I'm thinking everything is better.

But then I go into the restroom on my floor at work, and pause before I go into the handicapped stall, making sure there is no body on the floor. I have done that forever. Can't seem to shake that one. I use my right index finger to push the stall door open. What makes it worse, a girl or woman, I should say, on our floor commited suicide last fall and I see her on that floor before the door ever opens. She died at home wither her toddler in the next room watching cartoons.

She worked for a different company across the hall; I didn't even know her name until after she was gone. What I most remember about her were her shoes. They were kind of butch loafers. I remember sitting there in the stall, looking at her shoes in the stall next to mine and thinking to myself, "Cool shoes." But I never told her I liked her shoes. She also had a way of balancing herself on her heels while she washed and dried her hands, wiping mascara away from under her eyes. Maybe she had been crying.

I don't know, I wish I had said more to her than, "Can I reach in front of you to get a paper towel?" Will people remember more about me than what kind of shoes I wore?

Last week, the management put notes on everyone's apartment door. There are still three notes attached to doors, sitting out in the cold. (I counted.) Of course, I know that the tenants in those apartments are dead behind those doors, which explains why they don't come out and remove the notes. I guess when their bodies start smelling, they will be found, like the dead guy in our complex a few months ago. I imagine that's where this thought comes from.

And now this damned ISIS mess. I am petrified. I just wish someone would DO SOMETHING!!! I am so afraid that these terror groups have been planning to attack us since 2001, attack what we really love - our children.

My point of this post was that just when I think I'm better, I'm not. Sometimes I think I'm "coping" so well, that I would like to even lead a group, help others with OCD. But then I am hit with the reality that OCD will never go away. I am managing it, but it will always be there. It has promised me that.

But I just keep plugging along at it, and you should, too. Whatever your intrusive thoughts or rituals are, don't give up on life. It's not worth your time.

Monday, January 19, 2015

I do not consider myself a prejudiced person at all, however, there are some gentlemen living in my building I am afraid of (and, yes, I'm going to say it) because of their ethnicity.

Ever since 9/11, I have been afraid of Al Qaeda; now it's ISIS. My own daughter, when she was around 8, would not go into the back warehouse of our store where the bathroom was. We didn't know why until one day she told me. We had some furniture of a friend stored back there, and she thought Osama Bin Laden was hiding behind the sofa.

When I told her Bin Laden would not be in hiding in a small town in Texas, she said, "But they say they can't find him, Mommy. Here would be a good place to hide."

Anyway, I do have Muslim friends who I have been asking questions about their religion, trying to overcome my fears of Gihad, etc. I guess the ISIS beheadings and kidnappings have brought a lot of fears back.

In our building, there are a lot of families who fit the racial sterotyping of "terrorists" like you see in the news. A mom, a dad, two to three children. I get in the elevator with them and I just freeze with fear. Not hate, not anger but fear. I know they don't like my dogs. Sometimes they choose to wait for the next elevator. It doesn't offend me one bit.

But my thoughts center around the fact that the terrorists are alway saying they are going to get Americans where they hurt the most. My fear is that they are going to hurt our children, that they have placed all these hidden cells all over America, ever since 2001. It's been fourteen years. A lot of trained terrorists have had time to be trained, come over here, make lives for themselves unnoticed. My fear is that one day or close in time, each of these terrorists will position themselves in our schools and/or daycare centers and blow our children sky high.

So today I am typing all of this out with the hope that none of this will happen. I leave you with this quote from Mayou Angelou:

"Hate. It has caused a lot of problems in this world, but it has not solved one yet."

Friday, December 26, 2014

Yesterday was Christmas. It wouldn't be Christmas in our family without drama. I was driving my grandmother home after she pitched a pretty big fit about wanting to leave NOW. But she is 98 years old, so I think she has earned the right to feel down, get tired and say things she doesn't mean to say. It's just that it upsets other family members and ends what is supposed to be a joyous day with a chaotic and overwhelming bang.

It's about a 20 minute drive from my parents' house to my grandmother's assisted living residence. Down lazy and winding country roads, past farm houses and new subdivisions. There are even a few hilly areas, which seems out of place in our area. As I listened to my grandmother sob and blow her nose in an old handkerchief bordered with cross stitched apples, I became cold and callous.

She said that she only came because it was Christmas. I'm not coming at Easter; I'm staying home. I told her Easter was a long way off and we would talk about it then. She was feeling old and sorry for herself, like she was too much trouble because she wanted to leave early and everyone had to back their cars out of the driveway so I could take her home. I can't imagine living 98 years, being so terribly tired every day, every muscle and bone in my body aching. Just taking 50 steps to the car must be exhausting. Forgetting little things, not big ones. Things that matter, that make your day function as it should. Where I laid the cup, which direction the key goes, misplacing the cap of the toothpaste on the counter. Grandma is almost completely blind. She feels her way through dresser drawers, clothes on hangers, the perfect towel or nightgown for what she needs.

And as I drove closer to her home and listened to her whine and complain and feel like nobody loved her, I thought about all the heartache and grief I have given my family. The pain I set in motion by deciding to live and stay here on earth but leave my husband and children behind. The financial burden I have caused, what my children went without, and the many women who replaced me as mother in their lives. Some of our relationships have healed, but they will never be the same. I did that. By deciding to live.

And as I listened to Grandma and to my feel-sorry-for-myself thoughts, I saw a bridge in the distance. I thought to myself how easy it would be to just veer to the left, hit the bridge and go off the side. Left because I would hit first; Grandma would have a chance if it was God's will. I could take care of two "problems", two "inconveniences" in one simple motion of my hand.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

I mean, I know what a trigger is when you're posting something somewhere, something that might trigger bad feelings or bad memories and such, but I mean, what is the point of it?

I joined several FB pages a few months back. I have to admit that initially I did it for the publicity, to get my blog and You Tube Channel out there and later on my novel. But then I kind of got involved, you know, with certain people, their stories, their lives, their problems. It's interesting to read about the different types of OCD, different treatments, different medications and, in general, how other people deal with OCD in their lives.

Then I started noticing trigger warnings, not just on the OCD pages, but also on the depression and Women Helping Each Other type pages. I tried to post something and was told I couldn't post it without a trigger warning.

So I started looking more closely at the FB pages I was on. Almost every post says "Trigger Warning" and then the person writes their message in the comments. If they don't do this, they are reprimanded by other posters, "You should have put a trigger warning!"

Okay, so if that's the case, how does one know if the content is a trigger or not without reading it first? Some people are even told to put "POSSIBLE trigger warning." lol Now it's all I see, all I think about, la da da da da. It's OCD, people! It seems odd to me that in group where you're supposed to share your concerns and fears, you have to put warnings to do so. How do people think they are going to get better by avoiding the very disorder they have?

I linked one of my videos about dreaming about my funeral in a group and it was taken down because the admin said it could have "triggered thousands of followers to worry about death." Really? So I'm responsible for causing thousands of people to worry about death? Sorry, but I don't think I have that kind of power.

So I've gotten out of most of the FB groups I was in; kept a few that have trigger warnings once in awhile, but not every post.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

This is hitting a little too close to home right now as we live in Texas and my partner is going to be in Arlington sometime in the next couple of weeks. I have bitten my nails down to the quick, making it painful to even type this out. Anyone else worried about this disease?

I'm angry for two reasons. 1) the patient that died and the current patients in Dallas were not/are not going to be flown away from Dallas and taken to the same hospitals where the doctors who recovered were treated in special facilities. They flew the doctors from across the ocean to the U.S. for specialized care and they each survived. 2) President Obama continues to allow people to fly into the U.S. from countries in Africa where Ebola is killing people every day.

Political correctness and money, that's all I'm going to say on the subject.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Last night I dreamt I invented a phone app that would show you your funeral. Sometimes I wonder what my funeral/memorial service will be like. Will I be in a coffin or will I be cremated? I haven’t even written a will yet, but I would like to be cremated; I think it’s less expensive.

I also wonder how many people or who will attend my funeral, if, in fact, there is any service at all. I’m really ambivalent about there being a service as I feel no one would attend. But even more worrisome, is that people will attend just for show, because it’s expected. I wonder about the music that will be played. Sometimes I hear a song and I find myself jotting it down to be played at my funeral. If my family is reading this, the songs can be found on the notepad in my Iphone.

But of all the things about my funeral or lack of one, the most upsetting thought is what will be said about me. I would rather nothing be said (except for scripture verses about death and the afterlife) than things that are not true. I don’t want, "She was a good partner, mother, friend, etc." I feel those are untrue. I don’t want, "She was kind, caring, loving, etc." I feel those are untrue.

Maybe I should just write my own eulogy. It would go something like this:

She was on this earth to learn and enjoyed learning as well as teaching others. She wanted her children and partner and family to be happy and live life to the fullest. She found joy in small things like picnics, walking her dogs, lunches with friends, and singing. She found joy in the big things like having children, going to college, writing a book and reuniting with the love of her life. She never really figured out what to believe as truth, but she knows it now, as we all will. She accepted everyone and finally revealed her true self at the age of 46. She was a hard worker and always tried to meet her obligations but was ready to move on to another realm.

That’s really all the truth that can be said about me from someone else’s point of view. Pretty pathetic. Have you ever thought of your own funeral?

Friday, September 12, 2014

I'm doing okay this week. My latest obsession has subsided now since Joan Rivers passed. While she was in the hospital, I was constantly checking to see if she had died. I didn't even care for her. I liked her okay in her early years when she was making fun of herself and her marriage. But she went way too far when she made the joke about Michelle Knight and the other two girls who were kidnapped and held for years and years as sex slaves.

And while I feel they are both shallow people sometimes, I saw her daughter, Melissa, on I'm a Celebrity. Get Me Out of Here, and I was amazed at her strength of character on that island. She was very sensitive and giving to others and stood firm on her convictions. Would not put up with bullying, etc. Don't know much about her in "real life."

Below is my latest video on how my therapist helped me in CBT with a couple of rituals I had. Hope it helps someone out there.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Sometimes I wonder why the hell I'm on social media at all. Yes, it's been great to reconnect with people from my past - well, some of them, that is. You could have knocked me over with a feather when my first ex-husband had the audacity to friend request me on Facebook.

I've been on Twitter for about a year - wow, didn't realize it has been that long already. In a year, I don't think anyone has ever retweeted or favorited a tweet of mine. I think I've gotten two responses from my tweets - both were from celebrities.

I still don't get what's so great about Twitter. I mean, just when you are about to get out what you want to say (this post will show how long-winded I am), your character counter is running down to zero, and you have to back up and delete words or phrases, replacing them w/ abvns lk ths. I basically follow celebrities on it. I have trouble figuring out who is talking to whom, and the short keys and emojis are hard for me to follow. Not to mention that quite a few celebrities, e.g.. Cher, et al. have dyslexia and their writing is extremely hard for me to understand. I mean, really, follow her on Twitter and tell me what she is saying. Have you ever followed Mara Wilson, the ex-actress from Mrs. Doubtfire and Matilda? She is the re-tweeting queen and will make your head spin. I bet she retweets 100 x per day.

Other than getting together with my roommate from college and some people from high school that I NEVER hung around with, I haven't seen any of the 199 + people from my past in person. The other 50 people or so are people I have met within the past five years or so, e.g. co-workers, softball teammates, my partners' friends, my family.

So when my brother posted a video two days ago nominating me for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, it confirmed what I already knew - I have no close friends. I mean, really, who am I going to nominate? My partner, yes, but where would I find two other people?

My kids and parents have already been nominated. I feel like I would be the laughing stock of FB if I nominated someone I never see. The dialogue I envision would be like this:

B.M. - why would B nominate me? I haven't seen her since high school?

A.R. - why would B nominate me? Doesn't she have any close friends?

S.A. - why would B nominate me? I only worked with her one year and I probably will never see her again.

ALL: Doesn't B have a life?

So instead of videotaping myself nominating my one person, my partner, and being embarrassed about it, I simply made a contribution to. www.alsa.org. And when it asked the question, "Ice Bucket Challenge?" - I checked the box "no."

It sucks not having a close friend. Someone who would call on Friday and say, "Hey, I'm going to IKEA tomorrow to look at kitchen gadgets. Want to join me?" Or "Are you watching the game on Sunday? Want to watch it together?"

When I was married and had kids at home, we had a pretty much open-door policy until 10:00 p.m. (We had a family that would just show up to borrow things when we were already asleep, so we had to make the 10:00 p.m. rule.) It was nice because the house was USUALLY fairly presentable. If they were really friends, that shouldn't mind a little clutter. For many years I cried and cried because I had no close friends. Just when I got one or two, I left that life.

Are close friends necessary? No, probably not. Are they important? Yes, I think so. I have some close friends in the works. I will let you know if any of them pan out.

In the meantime, go to www.alsa.org and donate, even if you dumped ice water on your head.

Lately, I have had a fear of encountering an alligator/crocodile (can't remember the distinction at the moment, but who cares? They're both dangerous!) while on walks with the dogs.

The other night I dreamt about one, and the next morning when I woke up, there was a story on the news of a crocodile encounter when a woman went wading in a canal. I never wade in canals, but I do know these creatures have been seen wandering in cities and in suburbs.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

I haven't been writing here in what seems like forever for several reasons. I've been really busy and also, my OCD has been pretty manageable for awhile. I developed psoriasis a few years ago due to stress, which also escalates my OCD. Right now my psoriasis is out of control. Before my OCD does the same, I'd like to get some things on the page that have been bothering me:

1) airplanes disappearing and/or being shot down from the sky
2) the war going on in Gaza/Israel
3) the children immigrating to this country over the Texas border, alone and afraid
4) the media and social network frenzy over above
5) the movie "Fifty Shades of Grey" trailer
6) the media and social network frenzy over #5
7) the confrontation I had with a man at the 99 cent store a few weeks ago (I was afraid he was following me home)
8) the feeling that I have bone cancer

Alright, these have now been written down. I will come back to this page and expound on each subject that stays with me. Feel free to add your current obsessions here.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Because our treadmill is broken, I decided to walk "around the block." Now, our block is so long, it takes me at least 45 minutes to walk; it's that big. Row after row of apartment complexes, townhomes, condos, and office buildings. Sounds fun, huh? Not for someone with OCD over horizontal lines, cracks, and shadows.

I first knew I was in trouble when the spaces between the cracks in the sidewalk did not match my walking stride. I was walking down a major street of Houston, trying dodge the lines with my feet. It worked muscles in my pelvis area I didn't know I had, so I guess that is one good thing. I passed the Methodist Church whose sign mentioned something about stress, and I thought, "Yeah, this is pretty stressful." I can't imagine what I looked like from a passing car, like a fat, walking candy cane, my head bent over to look for the next line. My neck muscles were starting to throb before I reached the next corner. I finally realized that there was no possible way I was going to be able to dodge every horizontal line without either falling over or dying of embarrassment. Just when I talked myself into the fact that it was okay to touch every third line and I had gotten my rhythm down, the spaces between the lines changed, small in size. And to make matters worse, construction crews had painted flourescent orange lines and letters on the sidewalk. I looked at my watch. I had only been walking for eight minutes.

Why do I do this to myself? I continued on around the corner, dodging cars as they came in and out of parking lots and beginning what I didn't realize would be what seemed the longest stretch of sidewalk. But at least there was a sidewalk. Read down the page to understand this comment. After I passed yet another church, I began to relax somewhat as the cracks were now farther apart and there was actually a nice breeze blowing in the 94 degree weather. I was now claiming this sidewalk as my own. It was now almost 5:45 p.m. I passed two weedeating yard men and cautiously avoided touching their lines of cut grass which were laying in the middle of "my" sidewalk.

I knew it was too good to be true. About halfway down the block, when I was finally starting to pick up some good steam and get a little bit of cardio in, I came upon a stretch of sidewalk that looked like it had been blasted with jackhammers.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Have I told you lately how much I hate OCD? Do any of you have obsessions with behind the scenes/special effects of things?
A few months ago, I was obsessed with the utilidoors at Disneyworld. I feel like the last person on earth who knew the secret. When my brother started telling me about them, he said not to look into it more because it would ruin my fantasy of Disneyworld. Sure enough, he was right. If any of you are curious and don't care if you ruin your Disney experience, here is more info about the utilidors.
You can even take a "tour" of the utilidors. The guy who snuck in and filmed this was kicked out of Disneyworld for life.
Now I am obsessed with the musical Wicked. And not simply the musical, but a specific scene during the song "Defying Gravity", when Elphaba ascends. During the musical, I missed so much of the song because I was trying to find the secret platform that lifts Elphaba up. In this video it shows how it actually works. Now that scene will be ruined for me, too. Ugh!
Hope I haven't spoiled anything for you here, but you were warned!